


Skin Deep

by Kenkaya



Series: Miraculous Prompts [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Closeted Character, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, MTF Adrien, Multi, Trans Adrien, Trans Female Character, magical transformations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenkaya/pseuds/Kenkaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt- genderbend. </p><p>“The Miraculous… regardless of time, place, or situation… is whatever you need it to be. It transforms you into the hero you see within yourself.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Adrien is still very much closeted here, so there is a lot of unintentional (on the character’s parts) misgendering, angst, identity questioning, and internalized behavior. I put a lot of work into what I hope is a tasteful representation of these issues… but if anyone personally feels any aspect of these portrayals are disingenuous, insensitive, or problematic, please don’t hesitate to call me out on it.

xxxxxx

The first transformation had been a rush of electricity over body, skin tingling and warm in its wake. The tight leather-like fabric even behaved like a second skin: stretchy exactly when and where it needed to be, breathable unlike any other garment on the market, but, above all, comfortable. The suit seemed seamless, not a raised bump or change in texture to be felt. 

Then, Adrien peered down.

Long blonde hair fell over black-covered shoulders, curling around two small, but shapely, breasts. A startled step backwards, followed by an impromptu turn, revealed a more noticeable curve to the hip- waist slightly thinner as weight re-distributed itself around the thighs and posterior. Raising a tentative hand (bent wrist slimmer and delicate), Adrien cupped the underside of the left-side mound and lightly squeezed soft flesh. The heartbeat underneath was a drumming spirit-march against gloved palm. It felt real; it was _real._

Chat Noire hugged herself as she slid to the floor in her darkened room: crying.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Sometimes, Chat Noire resented the Miraculous that sat heavy on her right index finger. The black ring did give her nights filled with freedom and rooftop runs ( _“how cliche,”_ Plagg would always lamented), however, while dormant, the silver band also served as a constant reminder that she was chained to a facade. She felt trapped. Only the disruption of Akuma attacks broke her toxic rhythm of constrained, scratching-at-her-skin days followed by explosive displays of secretive self-expression. 

_Case in point._

“Watch out!” Alya called out from the bench she was magically stuck to. Mme. Mendeleiev, currently going by Mme. Electrique, had used superpowered static electricity to stick half the class to their assigned seats before Paris’ heroes had a chance to show up. Chat Noire suppressed a hiss as she ducked behind the front row desks, Ladybug right beside her, a bright bolt of purple lightning shooting over their heads mere milliseconds afterwards.

“Meow-ch, that was claw-ose!” The black-clad superhero commented, patting her long wild blonde hair (the length was still a bit of a novelty) to ensure nothing had been singed away. Her claws snagged on a few tangles, but otherwise, everything (cat ears included) seemed well in place. She glanced sideways at her spotted partner- groaning and rising to a kneeling position on the hard floor. “Any ideas, _Buginette_?”

“It’s in her lab coat… I’m sure of it!” Ladybug stage-whispered, blue eyes darting back and forth behind her red mask as she weighed their options. “I need to activate my Lucky Charm. Think you can hold her off for a couple minutes?” 

“My lady,” Chat said with a mischievous grin, reaching backwards to unclasp the silver baton from her belt. “It would be my purr-leasure.”

The blonde hoisted herself up and over the desktop suddenly without further adieu, extending her weapon into its staff form as she did so. Mme. Electrique stepped back in momentary shock ( _ha, shock! That’s a good one… need to make sure I use it this battle!_ ), glowing white eyes wide as she regarded the challenger in fighting stance before her. Chat Noire gave the akumatized physics teacher a once over as well: taking in the ghastly blue skin, black butterfly domino mask, vivid purple hair (spiked, with sparks of electrical current running through to the tips), and, most important of all, her pristine lab coat where the akuma resided. 

“I have to say, you might want to cut back on the morning espresso. You seem a bit _wired_ ,” Chat quipped, proud smile on her lips. From behind, she heard Ladybug suppress her giggle by somehow combining a groan and a snort. 

Unfortunately, Hawkmoth’s victims rarely possessed even a minimal sense of humor, and Mme. Electrique was no exception. Her fists clenched as violet electricity crackled around them. Chat had only just registered the potential threat when the onslaught was upon her. Thinking fast, she spun the staff in front of her to form a makeshift shield and diffuse the lightning attack. _Probably not my best idea,_ she realized as numbing vibrations ran up her arms, the loss of sensation diverting the majority of her focus to keeping a stable grip on her weapon.

“Ha!” Mme. Electrique’s odd, reverb voice crowed triumphantly, shooting a beam of white energy (the same kind she used to trap students earlier) at an unsuspecting Chat Noire’s feet. 

“Chat Noire!” Alya cried, echoed by several other horrified classmates. The heroine attempted a daring leap seconds too late, and found herself windmilling frantically to avoid face-planting at the villain’s feet instead: her boot soles stuck to the floor. Swaying to regain balance, only a horrified gasp to her left alerted Chat to the oncoming frontal attack. Her staff was raised just in time to catch the double-whammy of both electrically charged fists. Whole body humming and jaw rattling, Chat Noire wavered as fluorescent spots pulsed across her vision. The stench of burnt rubber overwhelmed all other senses. 

“My Super Static has completely incapacitated you,” Mme. Electrique sneered. “Hand over your Miraculous now!”

“S… sorry…. I’m…. feel… ing… particularly.... _clingy_ today,” the teen superhero managed through grit teeth. 

“Argh!”

She heard an exasperated roar, followed by a concussive boom. Impossibly brilliant light seared her eyelids as she flew backwards, weightless, until she slammed full force into the classroom wall. Hip, spine, shoulder, skull cracked in quick succession against hard plaster. Then she was on the cold floor, in pain, a continuous droning beep ringing through her ears. _It hurts… everything hurts_ , and she was vaguely aware of clicking heels approaching as she lay there. _Get up… Labybug’s counting on you_ , but the signal between brain and muscle moved at a snail’s leisurely pace. Mme. Electrique started speaking, though her muddled senses couldn’t quite grasp the words yet. _Probably something about our Miraculous’._ Sound filtered back in as she propped herself up on shaky elbows, slowly separating into discernable syllables. 

“...culous is mine!” 

“Not so fast!”

The last one was her lady’s bold, confident voice; she’d recognize it anywhere. A rushing noise (,i>is that... water?) came after the declaration, and Mme. Electrique screamed. 

“No, no,” she shrieked as a loud ripping of fabric signaled her defeat.

“You’ve done enough harm, little akuma. I’m freeing you from evil!”

Chat Noire sagged in relief, bracing herself against the wall while Ladybug cleansed the akuma. She was done, spent. _We did it… I did what she needed me to. It’s over now._

“Bye, bye, little butterfly.” 

With a cry of, _"miraculous ladybug!"_ pink healing light washed over the room- a gentle soothing warmth that sunk deep into her injuries and dulled pain. Senses clear, she blinked slitted green eyes, finally able to register the freed students cheering around them: jumping up as the power holding them to their desktop prisons released. The cat-hero rose along with them, stretching languidly, rolling her shoulders as the anticipated residual soreness set in. Her body had taken quite a beating. Ladybug’s Miraculous Cure may have worked wonders, but it wasn’t a perfect miracle; Chat Noire would be feeling the consequences of this battle for a few days. Not that she ever regretted taking hits for her beloved partner, _even if I have to deal with Plagg's whining and guilt trips for extra camembert since I ‘work him to starvation’ afterwards._ The already grumpy kwami always seemed far crankier following their more physically demanding fights. _Still, no regrets._

“Hey.”

And there she was. Ladybug suddenly appeared in front of her, an imposing (regardless of actual height) figure of red and black, her signature blue-black pigtails bouncing adorably behind her. Bluebell eyes radiated concern even as a small, soft smile graced her pale pink lips.

"That looked like a nasty fall."

"Twas nothing," Chat assured with dramatic sweep of her arm, leading into a magnificent hair flip (if she did say so, herself). "Nothing could ever come close, compared to how hard I fell for you."

"Ah, ah, _petite minou_ ," Ladybug teased, complete with wagging finger. A warning beep from her earrings broke through the light-hearted atmosphere right then. “I think the only thing falling here is your sense of timing.”

"How un-fur-tunate... time seems to be against us once more."

“Perhaps,” she giggled, raising a red gloved fist. Chat Noire regarded the gesture with impending dread: this was their ritual, the beginnings of farewell. _All good things come to an end… but why does it always have to end so soon?_ Not wishing to cause her partner further distress, Chat plastered on a well-practiced, triumphant smirk and lifted her own fist to finish their victory bump. 

“ _Good job!_ ” they chorused, perfectly in-sync.

“Awesome!” A high-pitched voice squealed to their left. Alya had made it through the throng of celebrating students, phone held aloft and recording. “Ladybug and Chat Noire have just defeated another Akuma victim at _Collège Françoise Dupont!_ Can you answer a few questions for the Ladyblog?”

“Ah, ha… well,” Ladybug took a nervous step back as her earrings gave a second urgent beep.

“Leave this to me, my lady,” Chat Noire said, placing a reassuring hand on the panicked girl’s shoulder. “I have time to spare.” Cataclysm hadn’t been summoned during this battle, after all. A cold internal voice (one that sounded suspiciously like her father) warned her that she was simply delaying the inevitable; eventually she would have to change back. Even so, the excuse to extend her transformation for just a bit longer was far too tempting.

“Thank you,” Ladybug whispered, grateful, before turning towards the excitable ombre-haired girl. “Sorry, Alya… Ah… I mean… it is Alya, right? Anyway, I really need to go… now. Another time, perhaps?”

She dashed off then, removing the red yo-yo slung at her hip and swinging as she leapt out of the classroom window. Chat Noire sighed wistfully at the sight. _She’s amazing…_

“Well, well,” Alya tutted beside her, abruptly shattering the moment. “With a look like that there must be a juicy story behind the scenes.” She tilted her phone for better focus. “The public is dying to know, Chat Noire, are you and Ladybug an item?”

“She’s the best paw-tner I could have ever asked for,” Chat grinned, ignoring Alya as she rolled golden brown eyes behind her black frame glasses. “We’re claw-ose, but not romantically.”

“Thousands of Ladynoire fans worldwide will be disappointed,” the bespeckled girl lamented with a wistful sigh of her own.

“Sorry to disappoint… I do aim to paw-lease, after all.”

The questions continued on, with more focus on their heroic exploits. They ranged from, “how did you get your powers?” ( _“Claw-ssified.”_ ) to, “who was the worst akuma you’ve personally faced?” ( _“L’imposteur. No contest.”_ ) At some point during the interview, Marinette returned from her exceedingly long bathroom break ( _“I was walking back… then I heard screaming and i saw Ladybug run by, so I just sort of… stayed in the hall until people started cheering?”_ ). Alya, ever the dedicated journalist, spared only a brief minute to confirm her best friend was indeed fine before returning to her coveted interview.

“So, respecting your secret identity, of course, what is the most difficult aspect in regards to balancing your civilian life with your superhero one?”

“Sleep,” Chat answered without missing a beat. “I manage, though… taking catnaps whenever I can... not to mention I’ve mastered the art of undereye concealer!”

“Hey, has anyone seen Adrien?”

Chat Noire suppressed an instinctive flinch, her green cat-eyes scanning the students until they landed on her best friend’s vibrant red baseball cap. She appreciated Nino’s concerned inquiry (really, she did!), but the last thing she needed right then was someone drawing attention to her absence. 

_Guess that’s my cue._

“I’d love to stay and continue our chat, but, un-fur-tunately, I have other engagements to attend too. It’s been a purr-leasure,” she said with a parting wave. Following her partner’s example, Chat grabbed her baton and departed through the open window with a running leap. 

“Awesome! Did you see that, Marinette?! The Ladyblog’s going to get so many…”

Alya’s voice faded as Chat Noire hit the ground and sprinted around the school building, sneaking back in through an open second story window. Dust particles flew upwards soon as booted feet touched the classroom floor: assaulting her sensitive nose with the overpowering scents of old paper, the tickle of cheap pink eraser, and sharp graphite. _Smells like history in here._ A quick survey of the dimly lit room confirmed she was definitely alone. _This is it._ Taking a deep, bracing breath, Chat Noire mentally prepared herself for the change.

“Transformation release.”

Jagged, lemon green light erupted at her feet, moving upward to reveal red sneakers and fitted blue jeans. She was acutely aware of her musculature re-adjusting, balance shifting as her pelvis narrowed and the curvature of her spine straightened by mere degrees. Disorientation hit full force when the light reached her upper chest: the comfortable frontal weight disappearing altogether while skin around her shoulders stretched, widening ever so slightly. Finally, the lightheadedness struck her, long heavy locks shrinking away and inducing vertigo in the wake of their loss. Gasping, the girl barely caught Plagg in her (now thicker) hands before knees hit the floor. She hunched there for a moment, gathering herself, beating back the sudden (but all too familiar) urge to yank hatefully at short blonde hair.

“Ah, I’m faint… camembert… I need c...camembert,” the tiny cat-like kwami cradled between her palms caterwauled.

“My bag,” she spoke through a deep inhale. Weary green eyes closed as she willed herself into the usual process of bottling up the emotional cocktail (sadness, self-hatred, anger, resentment, topped with a drizzle of guilt) that always seemed to overflow whenever Chat Noire’s transformation dissipated. “It’s in my bag. In the classroom.” 

“What are we waiting for then, kid? I need cheese!”

“Just give me a minute,” she sighed. Plagg narrowed glowing green eyes and huffed in response, still, he remained silent throughout the entire time needed to compose herself. The allowance was his backhanded, incredibly awkward way of showing he understood.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

_“H… how… what just happened?” Adrien gasped, pimpled goosebumps raising along bare arms as the stinging electricity from their first transformation faded._

_“That was our transformation. Now, if you let me finish this time…”_

_“But I was… my,” trembling fingers were groping a now flat chest, wet tear tracks glistening on flushed cheeks. “And my,” a whiplash neck crane confirmed a complete return to former body shape. “It’s gone, but it was there!”_

_“What are you talking about?” The black sprite-like creature that called itself Plagg floated up to human eye-level, bobbing in mid-air. “You’re weirding me out, kid… and that’s saying something!”_

_“My body was… I was… I was a girl.”_

_Adrien thought the admission would be embarrassing, but it (strangely) wasn’t. It was simply a fact: stated plainly and indisputable. The Agreste heir had grown up amidst a world of wealth, privilege, and lies- this felt different somehow, more genuine._

_“I was a girl,” Adrien repeated._

_“Huh,” Plagg hummed, stroking his chin with a tiny black paw. “Interesting. Maybe you’re like Harry, then.”_

_“Harry?”_

_“One of my previous holders,” he elaborated. “Lived in London around 1907… or was it 1917? I can’t keep up with your human dating systems! Anyway, nice kid… bit of a smartmouth and no appreciation for fine cheese at all! He slept alone in a small boarding house room, no family... was already wearing boy’s clothes and going by Harry when I met him… nobody but me ever knew he had to wrap his chest in order to do it.”_

_“So, Harry…”_

_“Had breasts, yes,” Plagg cut off the interruption irritably. “Pay attention! Anyway, as I was saying, he didn’t tell me much about his past (not that I particularly cared), but he did mention that he was born with a different name… a_ girl’s _name. Said he couldn’t stand it and could never go back to living that life. I never did find out if he ran away from his family or if they were actually dead. Didn’t really matter in the end since they weren’t there.”_

_“That’s very sad… but Plagg, what does this have to do with what happened to me?”_

_“I was getting to that! So impatient… well, when Harry transformed he claimed the binding didn’t matter… that his body changed to match his soul. Every time. Even got all sappy and said I was the best thing to ever happen to him because of it.”_

_“Changed to match… ? But I’m not,” yet Adrien couldn’t finish the sentence. The words settled wrong, in a way the statement earlier hadn’t. “I still don’t understand. Why does the transformation do that?”_

_“Beats me, I’m just the kwami,” he shrugged. “But the Miraculous… regardless of time, place, or situation… is whatever you need it to be. It transforms you into the hero you see within yourself. You can be whatever you want.”_

_“So… I’m Chat Noire,” she said, trying the name out loud for the first time._

_“Eh, not the most creative choice… but it works,” Plagg nodded his approval._

__Chat Noire. _Giddiness swept over her in the immediate aftermath- bubbling up into a wide (almost painful), dimpled smile. She hadn’t felt so elated since before her mother disappeared._ I’m Chat Noire! _The declaration was no less powerful within the confines of her mind._

 _Her mood came crumbling down, though, at a sudden sobering thought._ Father, _she realized with dawning horror,_ I’m his model… the perfect son. How could Chat Noire ever fit into that mold? _Then, she resigned herself to the grim solution; her only option._ He can never know. 

xxxxxx

xxxxxx 

“Okay,” she whispered, pulling her conflicted self back together on the empty classroom floor. Her heart rate slowed to a normal pace as her breath steadily evened out. “Okay… I’m okay now, Plagg.”

“About time,” he grumbled, whisker-antenna twitching in annoyance. “I’m starving!”

“I know, sorry,” she apologized, holding her white button-up open so the hungry kwami could easily dart inside the interior pocket. “Don’t worry, we’ll head back to Mendeleiev’s class.”

“I don’t care where we head off to as long as there’s cheese!” 

She shook her head fondly at the glutton’s antics, ignoring a bout of mild dizziness caused by sudden movement after the loss of her long hair. Standing slowly, the blonde made her way towards the closed brown door and peeked outside. Luckily, the room she’d ducked in was just down the hall from Mendeleiev’s. Her journey back was a short one. 

“Adrien!” Nino yelled as he waved frantically, the first to notice her entrance. “Are you alright? You just missed a rad fight with Ladybug and Chat Noire! Where were you, bro?” 

“I got trapped in an empty classroom down the hall,” she lied with practiced ease, scratching the back of her neck nervously to sell the sheepish follow-up. “It’s kind of an embarrassing story actually…”

“Nevermind that!” Alya (thankfully) interjected, rushing over to throw an arm around the newcomer’s hunched shoulders and shoving her phone screen in front of bewildered green eyes. “I got an exclusive with Chat Noire afterwards! This is amazing! I’ve already uploaded it to the Ladyblog!” 

Leaning back, the blonde caught a short snippet of herself on Alya’s phone: smiling and exuding confidence, all loose tousled golden waves and sleek black curves. She was stunning- and (in these shoes) the sight left her just the slightest bit sick. Blunt fingernails bit into the tough skin of her palms. 

“That’s great, Alya!”

It hurt, watching such an authentic, admirable version of herself and being unable to claim it. To only have that in brief daytime flashes and nightly rooftop runs. _It’s all I’ve got… but that’s not enough anymore._ Her right index finger burned where the now silver ring rested: a manacle only she perceived. _Ha! Who would even believe it?_ At least she had tonight to look forward to. 

“Oh my God! The video already has five thousand hits! Look at that counter tick up Nino!”

“Whoa!”

She snuck towards her assigned seat as Alya gushed, covertly transferring Plagg from shirt pocket to messenger bag. Sitting down, her skin crawled (constricting) while she offhandedly observed- head pillowed on folded arms- as the phone was passed around. Exclamations were made, favorite parts replayed, and Marinette (sweet, shy Marinette) unexpectedly broke away from crowd to approach the only student apart. Said student watched numbly as the awkward girl stepped closer, fidgeting anxiously with one of her blue-black pigtails. 

“H… hiiii, Adriiiien,” she greeted, high-pitched squeaks accenting her vowels. 

“Hi, Marinette.”

“Well, I just want to sure make… I mean make surke… ah no! What I mean was… what I meant was…”

“I’m fine,” she assured, pasting on a patented Agreste-soft-smile. Poor, stuttering Marinette deserved a break, after all. “Thanks for asking. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh... yes, yes. I’m dine… I mean fine, fine… Uhh,” slim artists’ hands flew up to cover her mortified expression. “Can the ground please go ahead and swallow me up now?” she mumbled, lips pressed against skin. Amused chuckles answered her divine plea. Blue eyes peeked through splayed fingers to see her crush laughing, coughing and trying to regain some semblance of control. 

“Don’t… don’t worry about it, Marinette... really. It’s fine, It’s,” _cute, endearing, honest-_

All things she could never be behind the mask of Adrien Agreste.


End file.
